


Roleplay - One Piece -  7 Minutes - Law | Emil

by saucyspinach, someidioticurl



Category: One Piece
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25727371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyspinach/pseuds/saucyspinach, https://archiveofourown.org/users/someidioticurl/pseuds/someidioticurl
Summary: One Piece based RP between Lena (Law) and Lizard (Emil).We'll update tags as we goLena: 21146 / Lizard: 19,691





	Roleplay - One Piece -  7 Minutes - Law | Emil

**Lizard**

Resisting an urge to hum - thought her head bobbed to a rhythm anyway - Emil sneaked into the infirmary. Keeping her head low, she slinked to Law's desk. Smirking at herself, Emil hooked her fingers onto the edge of the desktop and rose up just enough to peek at the half-open door. As if she could see at all or it made any difference - Emil was aware of the whereabouts of each and every Heart Pirate onboard Polar Tang. None of the pirates that participated in this game of hide-and-seek was anywhere close to those doors.

Her awareness also included Law.

Law, who stood on the opposite side of the desk she was hiding behind.

Law, who stared at her that very moment (or at least he had turned his head to face her).

"I see what you’re doing, and I have to say, I’m disappointed," Law said, planting his hands on his hips.

Emil snickered and reached over the edge, poking her forefinger into a stack of crumpled papers. "Bold of you to assume I've ever been hiding from you, Law. Can I take those? I've been planning to fold origami while they look for me anywhere but here." She's had a feeling that out of the whole crew, maybe only Bepo would dare to look in the infirmary while Law was working inside.

Shachi was the seeker.

Then again, Law could rat her out but that was the risk she was willing to take.

Emil grabbed a few pieces and - with her head still low - sneaked to the furthest wall, where a broom cupboard was. With the utmost care, she pushed the door handle down and crackled the door open only enough to take a pail with a mop out and slid inside herself.

She was about to close the door behind when an idea struck her - she chuckled and turned to show her face in the crack. "Have you ever heard about this game for teenagers high on hormones called 'seven minutes in heaven', Law?" She winked at him and closed the door, doubting he would join her in this - probably - dark cupboard.

* * *

**Lena**

It was just another regular day, just another minor distraction. He had been busy in the infirmary – no corpses on display this time; no pulsating cubed hearts exposed – meticulously cleaning and sterilising the equipment, wiping down the surfaces. At the moment of Emil’s intrusion, he was armed only with a wet cloth and bottle of disinfectant solution, but with his finger on the trigger, poised to dispense a squirt of ethanol into the face of his unsuspecting trespasser. Law spared Emil, because they had reached a point in their relationships whereby he had mellowed out and exhausted his supply of antagonism, and because he knew she would dodge. Still, his brows were quirked in bemusement as she continued in the act of sneaking around, keeping her head low – unnecessary, considering, while she couldn’t see him (even if she could sense him), he could obviously see her skulking about. Emil would be right that none other than Bepo would enter the infirmary when the invisible ‘Do Not Disturb, unless in an emergency’ sign was etched on the door.

It was hide-and-seek time, it seemed. One thing he hated was to repeat himself, but his ‘children’ had initially turned him into a naggy golden ager, until he realised the futility of words and consented to their games, so long as they were scheduled around their duties, and so long as they understood they would be responsible for any consequences unforeseen or otherwise that resulted from their shenanigans – of which he occasionally partook in, usually secretly as the instigator. Hide and seek, however, was not a game he derived pleasure or amusement from. Neither did he make for an engaging player, for he either didn’t bother concealing himself, or wandered past the boundary for the game, if they were outdoors, far into the woods where only Bepo would bother searching for him. 

Law had no need for the stack of crumpled papers and grunted an affirmative to her request. He would’ve been happy to let Emil hide in the closet and fold origami until the sun set, or even until the end of the week, but then she asked if he knew about that teenage game and he had no idea what she was talking about, but he could guess, from her words, that it involved mouth-to-mouth in the broom closet, which sounded idiotic, because the limited air, the cramped confines, and the pitch-blackness (which he supposed made no difference to Emil) ought not to be conducive to sexual arousal. It was a vertical coffin, minus the dead body, though he would promise to turn whoever was stuck with him in it into one.

“No, but I’ve heard of ‘Seven Minutes in Hell’,” he said, to the closed door, a little miffed that she had shut herself in before he could respond. “And we’re no longer teenagers, so we should be realistic about our expectations,” he added dryly. “I doubt either of us, with our colourful history of sins and wrongdoings, can hope to ascend to Heaven, should it exist beyond this mortal realm.” He finished his cleaning, rinsed out the cloth, removed the tools from the autoclave, and put them away. When he expected she might be just about running out of paper, he went over to the broom cupboard and opened the door without knocking. He picked up an origami heart and studied it in his palm.

“How kind of you to be considerate of my feelings, hiding yourself away in the closet,” Law mused, balancing the origami heart on Emil’s head. “What will you do with all these, anyway?” he asked, gesturing to the origami art. He had to admit, he was impressed, considering he didn’t know how to fold most of the shapes. He also considered ratting her out to the crew – but that would be dull. He considered helping out by cutting her up and scattering her parts all over the Tang like breadcrumbs leading to her severed head. But then he was struck by unshakeable curiosity about what it would be like hiding in the closet with Emil. It was a death simulation, he supposed, so he climbed into the closet and had to keep his shoulders hunched forward. Still, he bumped his head against the ceiling.

“Welcome home, Satan, I should say.” Since they were about to commence Seven Minutes in Hell. "Your henchman is thrilled to see that your diabolical appearance remains intact." Law shut the closet door, enveloping them in darkness. He shifted and ended up bumping his elbow against the side. “God – oh, _sorry_ , _Satan_ – I feel so turned on right now, electricity is running through my veins, and buzzing in my heart,” Law deadpanned wryly. “…Why would anyone choose a closet for making out? Does a closet really give one the impression of Heaven?” One had to be quite loony to think that. He shifted again and ended up bumping into Emil’s shoulder as he tried to stretch his arm. “Have you heard about the therapy of being buried alive in coffins in shallow forest graves?” he asked, apropos of nothing. “It’s supposed to make you feel alive and relieve you of stress. I wonder if it’s anything similar to this.” He knocked on wood, just to hear the sound echo throughout the closet. “I don’t feel very alive. Do you?” He wondered though, whether Satan would use her powers to make him wish he were dead, or thankful to be so very alive.

* * *

**Lizard**

Emil sensed Law approaching the door and reaching for the handle. She grinned at him the very moment the door swung open. She chuckled at his teasing but tilted her head down as if looking at all the folded hearts, boxes and flowers around her - some as big as four inches, some as small as an inch. What would she do about them? Her plan was to gather them and bin them obviously. That's what she usually did with her origami. _Maybe_ she would ask Law's crew if anyone wanted any. It would be interesting to watch any of them try to woo some random lady with a paper flower. Maybe she could teach some of them?

Her eyes grew wide and her face long as she leant back - she did _not_ expect Law to walk in. Come to tease her and maybe kick out but _not_ squeeze in. Emil gave out a dull grunt when he bumped her shoulder - more out of annoyance than pain - then again, he would have hit her in the breast if she hadn't shifted. The cupboard was not designed to hold two people _and_ all this gear inside for sure. "Stop moving so much." Emil grabbed Law's arms at his wrists and pushed them down his sides. "You're so shifty as if you were itchy or anxious. Do you have fleas, Law? The last time I checked, the only flea you had was myself." Talking, she pulled two mops out of a bucket, placed them on the floor and - with her feet - toppled the bucket upside down. "Here-" she pushed the bucket between Law's feet. "If you press your back against the wall and slid down, you should sit on an upside bucket. At least you'll stop bumping your head against the ceiling."

Holding his wrist, Emil waited for Law to sit down. She didn't let go, though she would if he shook her hand off, or decided to grab her hand instead. Either way, her intention was to let him know where she was. It _was_ dark inside, wasn't it? Law had never struck her as someone afraid of the dark but... Could he be claustrophobic?

Emil rolled her eyes. No. Probably not. Yes, Law had done stupid things in the past only because she had been there... One stupid thing. He had jumped down a waterfall into a lake. Whatever. Law probably was twitchy and talkative because he couldn't see her - her reactions - wasn't sure if he was getting under her skin or not.

"I've told you, haven't I? It's a game for teenagers high on hormones. The cupboard is not heaven. Heaven is the idea of being able to make out with someone with no consequences. What happens in the closet during those _seven_ minutes stays here." Emil pulled another broom out of another bucket and did the same as before but placed this bucket under the opposite wall. "Keep your legs wide, I'll sit between them." Emil slid down the wall, onto her bucket and stretched out her legs as much as the small cupboard allowed, placing her feet on both sides of Law's bucket. If they tried to keep their legs the other way around, Law's shins would probably end up just shy of Emil's crotch. It paid off being shorter.

"I've never heard about Seven minutes in Hell though. Is it an actual game you've played or are you just making it up, once again insinuating I'm the devil?" In all honesty, both sounded plausible. The latter more so, but still. "I don't mind you calling me Satan but I have to say I'm ever so slightly offended." Emil gave out a low chuckle as she grinned. "Do you really think unannounced hugs and sexual teasing is the _worst_ I could do to you, Law? I know!" She let go of his hand to briefly clap. "I could sneak into your bedroom and kidnap Corazon Jr.! I could start a rumour among your crew that, yes, we had sex but it's always been pity sex because you're as good as a blow-up doll in bed. Good thing I just prefer real dicks over dildos. I could break all your cups, mugs and glasses and you would have to resolve to the ridiculousness also known as drinking coffee from a bowl. It certainly would go cold faster."

"Heh..." Emil lowered her hands, resting the left one on Law's knee, right one on her own thigh. "What do you say, Law? However Many Minutes in Heaven. We can make out if you'd like, I'm down for that but the idea is whatever happens here, stays here. We don't mention outside anything that we've done or said while in here."

* * *

**Lena**

“Anxious?” Law scoffed. “I’m excited,” he intoned. “And I’m stretching and warming up in preparation for the workout.”

He let her manipulate his arms like he was a puppet doll, nonetheless giving her a slight disgruntled look that was lost in the dark, and also to her blindness. As per her guidance, he slid down and sat on the overturned bucket, feeling…silly, like a child, an overgrown dunce made to sit in the corner of the classroom – or even, in the closet, alienated; more like a child, hiding out in the darkness of the treasure chest, the lid weighted down by something heavy, and if he pressed his ear against the side, any moment now, he would hear the heated exchange of voices, the gunshots ringing out in succession, rippling through his chest, tearing through his heart.

It was still very cramped, and he had to keep his knees drawn towards himself; the air already felt stifling, though it was a small consolation he wouldn’t keep hammering the ceiling with his crown. He said nothing throughout, though he wanted to say that her assistance was unnecessary. They were in a closet; he wasn’t going to fall and hit his head or stab himself in the chest with the broom handle. There just wasn’t enough space for critical injuries. He supposed she was only trying to reassure him, let him know she was there – also, unnecessary, though a small part of him was appreciative. Perhaps he was a bit out of his element, and his pulse was above the resting rate, his other senses heightened and on alert, but he wouldn’t go as far as to say he was afraid or wary.

“Yes, but we’re no longer teenagers, or are we compensating now for the lack of such tomfoolery in our youths?” He could understand the appeal of the secrecy of the closet, with anything happening inside privy only to both involved, but he couldn’t imagine much happening in the closet, to begin with; there was hardly room for anything more than a kiss. It was cramped, did he mention? Besides, making out with someone without consequences was Heaven, really?

He could hear Emil moving around despite telling him not to move about, and his brows creased in momentary confusion about what she was up to. Still, he complied, kept his legs wide open as much as his jeans would allow so she could sit between them.

Then there they were, seemingly having settled into a semi-comfortable position, wedging themselves into the confines of the coffin-like receptacle, mismatched pieces of a puzzle forced to fit into the box, his back against the wall, bottom planted on the bucket, shoulders huddled together, arms pressed close to his sides, in the company of mops and buckets and rags and cleaning solution and probably a dead bug or two nobody had yet noticed, when there was an abundance of space outside. Strangely, he found himself wishing she would start humming. Some music would be welcome.

Her abrupt clapping caught him by surprise and he tensed up in spite of himself. She was promising – threatening? – to make his life Hell, and with a sigh of mock resignation, he tilted his head back, and bumped it against the cupboard.

“How _juvenile_.” He propped an elbow on a knee and leaned the side of his face against his hand. “Really, that’s the worst? Those would be annoying, but hardly tormenting. And blow-up dolls are in high demand, nowadays,” he said dryly. “Sure, they’re hollow, airy, insubstantial, and less grounded than a fresh corpse, but not everyone is capable of murder for the sake of satisfying their sexual urges.” He gave a half-shrug. “And if you make turtle soup, I’ll just have to find another turtle. Also, I believe in some cultures they do drink from bowls, so don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Besides, I could always cover the bowl with a saucer to prevent the coffee from getting cold quickly.” Despite his words, naturally, he would prefer she spared him from all those inconveniences.

He could feel her hand on his knee as he considered her proposition for a moment. Whatever happened in the broom closet, stayed in the broom closet? It sounded like they were about to talk about their feelings, expose their hearts to each other, the way that was worded. On the flip side, it also sounded like they were about to scheme something devious. Maybe they could set up an ambush for Shachi? Otherwise, he had the idea to probe into her past, turn Seven Minutes in Heaven into Seven Minutes in Hell, but he didn’t want to trigger her void state. Making out was an option, but he didn’t want to kiss or fondle a broom by accident (he supposed she could mess with him, shove a broom in his face).

Law cleared his throat and groped around for an unfolded sheet of paper. He started folding it blindly. All he knew were generic shapes: a box, plane, boat, star. Affecting gravitas, he confessed: “Curse me, Satan, for I have sinned far too little. There were lives I spared and saved when I should have wrenched their last breaths from their throats; there were instances of torture I withdrew from when they pleaded for mercy and despicable sympathy overpowered my better judgment and inherent barbarity. Too many good deeds I have been guilty of. As your deplorable lackey, I have failed you, but tonight, I shall repent, plunge my blade through numerous mortal hearts, bathe in the gushes of blood that I may cleanse myself of my virtues. Then I shall serve you their skewered hearts as an offering.” He gave up on folding a heart, and instead, tore the shape of one out of the paper. He seized her wrist (after waving his hand about and feeling around), turned over her hand, and placed the paper heart in her palm. Then he deliberately groped around, touching her shoulders, patting down her arms, finally cupping her face in his hands.

He leaned forward and kissed her – missing her mouth and kissing her nose. He adjusted his hand to grip her jaw, settling his other hand on her thigh, and corrected his trajectory. This time, his nose knocked into hers. The third try, he tilted her head a little, and his lips brushed against hers. His eyelids lowered, and a soft smile crept onto his face. He relaxed his grip, and kissed her with a gentleness like never before. A few seconds passed before he drew back, though his lips hovered a fraction of an inch before hers. He stroked her chin with his thumb, then he brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek. A quiet ‘hm’ was all he said, before he pushed the door open a crack, then opened it wide. Squinting against the lights, he extricated himself from the closet and sucked in a breath of air. Uncharacteristically chivalrous, he turned back to Emil and held out his hand, offering to help her out as though they had arrived at their castle after a long ride in the horse carriage.

“Why were we hiding, anyway? We’re neither fugitives nor stowaways embracing in the throes of despair, sharing a last kiss before our execution. Sitting on the bucket also feels like I’m on the toilet.”

Whether or not she took his hand, whether or not she came out of the closet, he moved towards the desk and sat on the corner edge, facing Emil. “How about out here?” he asked. “We could build a fortress out of sheets and chairs, dim or turn off the lights. Of course, that is, if you think you can be quiet, lest whoever passes on the outside picks up on your noise – unless, that is the whole point: exercise your vocal cords, draw attention to the infirmary, ambush whoever comes in the door?”

* * *

**Lizard**

Emil rolled her eyes at Law. She rolled her eyes so hard her whole head followed. Law would probably make an offended face and offer a biting comment if only he could see her reaction. 'Biting' in his opinion - Emil would probably shrug it off or grace it with yet another eye-roll. It was so like Law. Not only had he insisted on applying logic to a silly game created by _horny teenagers_ \- any semblance should be thrown out of a window when it came to horny teenagers - but he also called her 'threats' juvenile. Of course, they were juvenile! Had she ever hurt him in a way that _wasn't_ juvenile? Okay, she punched him once or twice but _he_ was the annoying one at the time.

Tracing her thumb over Law's knee, she gave out a soft breath and just let Law ramble. Heh, maybe he _was_ anxious. Had they ever been in a such dark, closed space before? Emil couldn't recall. It didn't seem like something that bothered Law but then again... He _was_ broken. Anyone who had to squeeze their heart, causing themselves an immense pain, was broken in some way. Emil still didn't know _what_ caused Law's scars. For all she knew, it could have been connected with some confined space...

If it was the case, it would be hella interesting he travelled in a closed tin... No - Emil chuckled to herself - Polar Tang was a great submarine and didn't deserve to be called a tin.

Law put a heart in Emil's hand. While Law touched up her arms, flailing ever so slightly in the darkness, Emil ran her fingers along the edge of the paper. Was it supposed to this 'skewered hearts as an offering'? Emil smiled at herself, wondering whether or not to point out that this heart was oh so obviously missing the skewer and therefore wasn't an acceptable offering.

Out of a habit, Emil lifted her eyes at Law's face. He was leaning in. Was he going to kiss her? Give her a quick peck and claim that there it was, a silly teenage game kiss, could that get over with it now? As if he wasn't free to leave at any time he wanted... Well, his pride and stubbornness probably stopped him from leaving without doing 'something' here. Not when he walked in out of his own will.

His hands felt nice on her cheeks. Emil relaxed and closed her eyes, a small, pleased smile on her lips... Still, she didn't move even though she knew he was going to miss her lips. Then again, for all she knew, he might have been aiming for her nose! She gave out a soft chuckle when he bumped his nose against hers. She should do it more often - interact with sighted people while in darkness. Somehow, those little misses made even someone like Law adorable.

The third time the charm, this time Law kissed her on the lips and... Emil melted.

She had expected a firm, quick smooch but this... This was soft. This was tender. Law's lips brushed against hers as if a feather traced along her exposed skin. It tickled her senses and she could swear Law smiled into this kiss. Not his normal, self-serving smirk but a soft, pleased smile. 

She breathed out - the kiss was over too soon. With her focus on Law's lips, Emil found herself yearning for more as she tilted her head against Law's touch - his fingers against her cheek. It was so unlike him. That had to be the reason - he had taken her by surprise - that's why he had managed to push her into this dazed, yearning state...

Blinking rapidly as Law opened the door, Emil held her hands to her cheeks. Was she blushing? They _were_ ever so slightly warmer than usual. Or maybe her hands were colder?

Emil took Law's hand and let him lead her outside. "I was hiding because I was playing hide and seek, you hid because I don't know." Emil mindlessly traced her thumb along Law's skin. The fact he held her hand himself only added to her... Confusion? No. More like bewilderment. It was nice bewilderment though and Emil enjoyed it. She could probably shake it off, grin and jump on Law's clearly sexual comments but... She didn't want to. She wanted more of this softness. This tenderness. She wanted to find whether her desire for more was due to it being so mushy or because it simply was an unexpected surprise.

"Honestly?" Emil breathed out, her voice just above a whisper. She stepped closer to Law and brought his hand up, pressing it against her cheek. "A blanket fort sounds great-" she closed her eyes and tilted her head, the feeling of Law's fingers shifting across her skin made her head lighter-" but in the end, I don't care where you do it. On this desk, on the floor, on the bed." She pressed her lips against the heel of Law's hand as she reached up her free hand to grab at the bottom of his hoodie and tug at it, needing him to come closer.

Emil might be playing up her desire a bit but it was a very _tiny_ bit. In her head, an idea of Law holding her and kissing softly had already toppled over the image of him fucking her against a wall...

Lifting her head, Emil looked in Law's eyes. "I don't care where-" by this point, it felt like her cheeks were dusted with pink- "just do it again."

* * *

**Lena**

Ensconcing himself back into the realm of the living, after their little excursion to Heaven (or Hell, depending on whom you asked; to Law, it was both), with the bright lights restoring his vision, he felt more in his element now, well-familiar with every nook and cranny of the infirmary, and his confidence returned, straightening his posture.

An interesting experience he would be disinclined to repeat – not the kissing in the dark (though that was interesting and worth another shot), but the temporary blindness. But perhaps if he tried it more often – the temporary blindness, but probably also with a bit of kissing – he might get a glimpse of things from Emil’s perspective, and that might enable him to better understand her. Then again, while he couldn’t speak turtle, he felt he understood Corazon Jr. on a level he could never understand Emil. Case in point: the way Emil was currently acting, minus her usual snark and sass. Law scrutinised her.

 _Strange._ Something was different. The Emil that emerged from the cupboard looked and sounded the same as the Emil that went into the cupboard, but... _What was it?_

He let her guide his hand to her cheek, and momentarily stilled when she nestled her face against his hand, the way he sometimes rubbed his cheek against the soft fur of his hat (or Bepo’s shoulder) when it was freshly washed and dried. It was as if she craved his touch, the tenderness of her gesture surprising him. This wasn’t an act; it was unlike her usual theatrics. Then he met her eyes, studied her expression – was she blushing? _Emil_ , of all people, _blushing_? That was akin to him bursting out in a fit of hearty laughter. Impossible. Unless he overdosed on laughing gas, which was very unlikely. Usually, he would have smirked with absolute smugness, gloating that he’d succeeded in making the _shameless_ Emilia Utter, Queen of Utter Brazenness, _blush_ , but at that moment, stupefaction froze his face.

 _Do it again,_ she said. A quizzical smile curled the corners of his lips. It wasn’t just the words she spoke, but the look in her eyes, and the tone of her voice, when she requested it of him. Had he stumbled upon the magic words – not the magic words, but still, the magic gesture – that could calm (or tame) her? Was the trick a display of genuine tenderness? He eyed her contemplatively. A year ago, he would have stingily denied her another kiss, but instead, he retook possession of his hand and brushed stray locks of hair to the side of her face. His hand came to rest on her waist, and he moved towards her, guiding her back a step or two before he gripped her hips and lifted her onto the desk behind her. He pushed his way between her legs and took hold of her chin, tilting her face towards him.

“And just what is it you want me to do again?” he asked, in a voice low and arch, his brow slightly quirked. A fleeting smile passed across his face, then he dipped his head, leaned towards her. This time there was no mistaking her nose for her mouth, though he didn’t kiss her yet, his lips and hers almost touching, but not yet, not yet. He felt the warmth of her breath against his lips and his hand stroked slowly up her thigh. Cradling her face, he kissed the corner of her lips, then he kissed her jaw. His mouth explored down her neck at leisure, planting soft kisses in its wake. He paused with his lips on her collarbone, a gentle nibble, and then he drew back, righted himself and his arms fell back to his sides as he backed a step from her, and another. “Wait here, and sit still,” he said, in a tone less of an order, more a suggestion, with the hint of a promise of a reward for good behaviour.

He went over to a row of cabinets on the side and took out a pile of folded sheets to construct the blanket fort. Then he glanced over his shoulder and replaced all but one sheet. Despite the appeal of the blanket fort, space was a bit of a constraint in the infirmary – assuming they wanted to build one that would facilitate a comfortable, good old…romping. He draped the sheet over the examination bed and put on some music. A dark, ominous orchestral composition sounded from the radio, the kind of music one might expect to fill a haunted castle for ‘ambience’ before he switched it out to a slow, sombre classical piano piece. While he could do nothing about the pervasive scent of disinfectant, he dimmed the lights for ‘atmosphere’ – not that he expected it made any difference to Emil. Having set up what he thought was a mood that was almost romantic, he stood beside the examination table and beckoned Emil over. “Come over here,” he told her, with a slight inflection of a question in his tone. He had to admit it wasn’t the most comfortable. If things progressed far enough, perhaps they would have to sneak out to his room.

“Oh, where were we?” he asked with feigned ignorance. “Right, you were asking me something. My mind isn’t too sharp these days. Mind telling me again? What it was you wanted me to do…to you.”

* * *

**Lizard**

Emil could feel her pulse quicken when Law didn't scowl in her face but brushed her hair. He guided her backwards, into the desk. She hopped when he grabbed her hips, helping her onto the desk. Being so much shorter than Law had been beneficial not more than ten minutes ago but now she quietly cursed the distance between their lips. Perhaps it was Law's fault for being this tall.

Her attention was on Law; she could sense the presence of other Heart Pirates buzzing throughout the submarine but paid them no mind. She gripped onto the edge of the desk, unsure what to do with her hands. On any other occasion, she would have gripped her partner and pull them in for a passionate kiss but this time... This time was supposed to be slow and gentle and maddeningly _teasing_. Her chest heaved with each deep breath, ever so slightly quicker than normal. Law's breath tickled her lips - a promise of a kiss which was taking _forever_ to arrive.

She closed her eyes when he tilted his head and pressed his lips against the corner of hers. 'Brushed', rather than 'pressed'. She would love for him to go the opposite way - toward not away from her lips - but didn't complain. His delicate caresses tingled her skin. Her heart pounded in her ears and she couldn't help but wonder if he heard it too.

It was over too soon. Again. Law pulled away and Emil leant forward after him. _Sit still_ he said. Could she? With half-lidded eyes and fingers tightening on the edge of the desk, she followed him around the infirmary with only her attention. She opened her mouth when he grabbed a whole armful of blankets, about to state to ditch the idea of a blanket fort, but he put most of them away before she uttered a word.

Emil couldn't help but smile at the music and noticed he toggled with the list switch but considering he still walked around with the usual confidence, she supposed he only dimmed the light, not turned it off.

Biting her lip, she crossed her legs at ankles, pressing them one against the other. Was it okay? Could she walk over to him now? Run over? Was she really so starved for soft and gentle affection she was so impatient to get into Law's arms? She's had hugs and soft cheek kisses but how long has it been since someone just held her and took their sweet time with smooching her? Too long. So long she had forgotten how much she wanted it. How much she _needed_ it. To be held and... _Relished_.

She didn't expect Law to relish in her - not the way Zack had - but maybe _enjoy_ would be enough to satisfy this smouldering _need_ within her. 

Emil jumped off the desk and ran up to him... Stopped half a step away, her eyes wide, her mouth agape.

How? How should she get around to it? So they just don't jump into mindless fucking straight away? With how she had just approached, it would only make sense for her to push him onto the examination bed, jump on top of him and just ride him. It wasn't what she wanted. Maybe later but not _now_.

With her fingers interlocked, she took a sharp breath in and took half a step forward. "I..." How should she do it? What should she ask of him? Kiss me as if you loved me to the moon and back? No. That would be unfair. Emil couldn't ask him to even _pretend_ to be in love with her _for her_ while fully aware she would _never_ love him. An act to fool someone else? No problem but not _for her_.

Twisting her fingers, she took another half a step, standing right in front of Law. She lifted her head, directing her eyes to his - with the heartbeat even louder now in her ears than before, she was sure her cheeks were red, maybe even ears. "I... I want you to kiss me." As before, Emil grabbed to the bottom of Law's hoodie and tugged at it. "I-" she hesitated, unsure of the word choice, "- _need_ you to hold me." Lowering her head, she reached her right hand to his left. "To touch me." She ran her fingertips over the back of his hand, their skin _barely_ touching. "Like that." Lovingly. "Just... So."

Cursing their height difference again - that she couldn't lean in and kiss him herself - Emil entwined her fingers with his. Her movements were slow and gentle. She stepped to the side, turning Law in his place so they both stood beside the bed. Emil glanced at it, wondering whether to sit on it or lay on it, before looking up into Law's eyes again. Well, she could leave the choice of position to him.

"Kiss and tease me softly, Law," she whispered - her voice bearly over the already quiet music. "Please" 

* * *

**Lena**

Off the desk she jumped and she ran towards him, and in that brief moment she looked overjoyed to see him, like they were lovers separated for years by distance or war and were finally reuniting. Such enthusiasm for one who had tormented her a number of ways, glued donuts to her bum. He could’ve sidestepped, but instead he squared his shoulders and braced for a collision, anchored to the spot by curiosity, staring intently at her approach. He expected she would slam him down onto the examination bed and straddle him, or perhaps she would leap onto him and cling to him. Bemusement registered on his face when she halted, a step or two away, demonstrating self-restraint that he felt was unlike her. Opening up a person to examine their insides had its perks, but in times like this, he wished he could open up skulls and probe minds.

Emil struck him as uncharacteristically hesitant and uncertain, and he scrutinised her with his brows slightly pulled down in puzzled contemplation. To his question, ‘What is it you want me to do to you?’, he would expect her to demand: ‘Kiss me again, you (some term of insult)!’, with defiance colouring her voice, as though he’d already refused. Yet, her words were soft-spoken when she told him she wanted him to kiss her. He glanced down, failing to understand why she was tugging at his hoodie the way he’d seen a child tug on the pants of an adult. He tried not to let any reaction show on his face when she said she needed him to hold her, to touch her, though the look in his eyes softened. He felt her fingertips skittering over the back of his hand, and his fingers twitched, but he resisted the urge to take her hand in his. Perhaps she read his mind, for she entwined her fingers with his, and he reacted by closing his fingers gently around hers.

There was no concealing the surprise that lifted his brows when from Emil’s lips, a ‘please’ slipped out, her voice barely audible that he wondered if he’d misheard. But he couldn’t think of what else she’d meant to say: Cheese? Sneeze? Geese? None of those fit. Then he wondered if they should go back into the closet and repeat the whole awkward sit-on-buckets-and-kiss scenario, so that when they stepped out again, Emil would be returned to normal. _Please?_ He couldn’t remember Emil ever saying ‘please’ – maybe sarcastically, never sincerely like this. To his dismay, the ‘please’ had unexpected effectiveness, for inwardly, he was torn – should he, or shouldn’t he? To his chagrin, he found he was inclined to oblige. For once, of his own volition, he wanted to hold her, and not for the purpose of restraining her.

He remembered that argument they had about all the unsolicited hugs she forced onto him, and how he had tried to tell her he would appreciate advance notice of impending hugs, but that didn’t sit well with her.

What had changed? She had gone from one extreme to another: surprise hug ‘attacks’ to asking for one, with a ‘please’.

He looked into her eyes, his expression devoid of any hostility but revealing a faint trace of fondness. He freed his hand from hers, and put his arms around her waist, barely an embrace yet. He took half a step forward and wrapped his arms a little tighter around her, gently guiding her towards him, their bodies lightly pressed together. If she could hear his heart, it beat steadily in his chest. He leaned his chin on her crown.

The hug was over within three seconds – he gave Emil a three-second taster of what else could come, before he retracted his arms and stepped away to turn off the music – because, when had he ever made things easy for her? Too soon, not yet. Emil seemed possessed by some…spirit in need of affection; he wanted to…experiment, a little more, see if he could make her wait a little longer. Besides, they couldn’t do it on the examination table. One of them was bound to roll off and he didn’t want it to be him. The sombre piano was silenced with a click, the room returning to a quiet.

Law strolled to the door and paused with his hand on the knob. He turned back to Emil, and said, “Not here.” He thought of the furthest room from the infirmary. Coincidentally, his room was on the other end of the Tang. “My room,” he said, opening the door a crack. Then he glanced back at Emil. “Provided you can get us there without anyone catching us along the way.” A small smirk curled a corner of his lips. “If we’re even seen from afar, just once, then…I’ll have to call it off.” He doubted it would be tough, with her observation haki. “Of course, if you do get us there without us being spotted, then… I’ll do as you ask.” He wondered if it wouldn’t be challenging enough, so he added, “We have to make a quick stop in the kitchen.” He opened the door wider and gestured for her to go first. “I’ll leave it to you then. Lead the way.”

* * *

**Lizard**

Emil's shoulders dropped when Law pulled his hand away. She had thought he would entertain her request - especially now that she's asked, _pleaded_ for it. Law liked being asked for things after all... And enjoyed turning those requests down, too. She should have known better. She took in a breath to sigh but Law wrapped his arms around her waist. Her eyes grew wider the closer he pulled her. 

Law hugged her. Law actually _did_ hug her. She had hoped he would when she asked him to but now that it actually happened - when she hid her face in his chest, enjoying the warmth radiation from his body - she realised just how _new_ it was. Had he _ever_ hugged her out of his own volition?

Was it because she said 'please'? Should she do it more often? Wouldn't it lose the effectiveness if she used it more often?

It ended.

Too soon.

Just as the kiss in the closet; as the kiss on the desk. He gave her a taste, leaving her yearning for more.

Emil followed Law with her blind gaze as he turned off the radio, as he walked over to the door. How long could he dangle this carrot in front of her till she lost patience and bit his fingers instead? He wanted her to work for it, didn't he? If he wanted to move it to his room without making it hard for her, he could have just opened his Room and swap them there. Was he even going to keep this promise? Would he really do as she asked of him once they reach his room?

"That's a promise." Emil looked at him, motionless for a few seconds. He should know she took her promises seriously. Both those she gave and those she took. She had no plans to abuse this new 'power' should they reach his room successfully, least Law decides to _never_ do it again, but she would gladly kick him overboard _through_ the submarine walls should he come up with some other excuse.

"Okay." Walking past Law, Emil grabbed his hand - entwining their fingers - and pulled him along, outside. "What do you need from the kitchen anyway?" She gave him a moment to close the infirmary door behind them before walking at a fast pace down the corridor - not enough for their footsteps to sound rushed. Most of the crew was outside but those few still on the inside could hear them walking; footsteps on a submarine were normal but running would attract attention. "I swear if it's whipped cream, I will smear it all over your head." She chuckled and looked back at Law's face, winking. "Or better _ask_ you to do it yourself."

Her blush subsided, overtaken be a mischievous smirk. Emil had a task! A goal to achieve! To sneak past Heart Pirates - to smuggle Law to his room with a pit stop in the kitchen. She _still_ desired the attention. She _still_ yearned to feel Law's hands on her, his fingers trailing slow and gentle spirals over her face and neck. She _still_ craved the taste of Law's lips caressing hers. She _still_ wanted to have Law's whole, soft attention on herself. She just had to distract herself with an amusing quest at hand; otherwise, she would just go back to the infirmary and demand Law does as told right there, right that moment.

As if that would work on this stubborn ass.

"Hold on." Emil stopped before a turn. "Uni's down this corridor." Emil guessed she should give some commentary for Law's sake. As amusing as it would be to make him duck and hide from people who weren't even there, Emil decided it would render the journey too long and would give Law a perfect excuse to stop off should he find out. "He's walking away," she added, even though his footsteps were clearly getting distant. She lifted her hand she still held Law's hand in and pointed at a door on his side. "We can hide in Penguin's room if he decides to turn back for whatever reason." Penguin was outside and Uni would have to decide to turn around and hang out in this corridor for a while for it to turn into an issue.

Emil gave out a soft chuckle, not loud enough to catch anyone's attention and nodded back at a narrowed door further back where they had come from. "Worst case scenario, we can hide in this closet over there."

* * *

**Lena**

“Yes,” Law agreed plainly, when Emil declared the deal a promise. He was well-familiar from past experiences with how seriously Emil regarded her promises. Breaking a promise with Emil spelled doom – or, at the very least, there would be blood and thunder, blood boiling. Blood he would, under different circumstances, relish spilling, but there and then, he had no inclination to go back on his word, yet, until she gave him a reason. Thus, “Okay,” he repeated her affirmation, and allowed her to entwine their fingers and guide him out to the corridor. The whole handholding and sneaking around evoked a sense of adventure and transported him back years, that for a second, the smirk gracing Emil’s features was Lami’s, and her eyes were hazel and glinting with mischief, before he extricated his hand from Emil’s, pretending he needed it to close the infirmary door.

“I need knives,” he said, his tone implying that she was asking the obvious, as though one could hardly do without knives in the bedroom; as though knives were a staple, indispensable when it came to good old rumpy pumpy or just plain old canoodling. In truth, he required nothing from the kitchen, though he could do with a cup of coffee. Whipped cream had never crossed his thoughts till her mention of it. “I could consider whips and cream, separate, the latter of an inedible nature, but not together, not whipped cream,” he said. “My bed’s anti-sweetness – that is, I prefer to keep all sweetness out of it. Besides, whipped cream is reserved for Bepo’s baking needs. If you desire a whip, I’m sure we can dig out one from storage.”

They pottered along, Law matching Emil’s pace. He wasn’t worried about anyone finding them – that was Emil’s job. Of course, he was cooperative and played fair, and refrained from clomping around to deliberately draw attention to themselves, but trod lightly as he could. He stopped on her cue, appreciating the commentary. A small fragment of him questioned the truthfulness of her claim that Uni was around the corner, but ultimately, he didn’t see why she’d want to deter them from reaching his room. Surely, she’d rather horizontal coupling, with opportunity for a bit of rolling around and getting entangled in the sheets, than vertical copulation with inevitable clumsiness and awkwardness and limited air supply?

To his momentary disconcertion, he did realise a small mistake: why did _he_ have to hide? And yet, he’d challenged her to get _them_ to his room without being noticed. He glanced back with distaste at the closet Emil pointed out behind them. “Worst case scenario, it’s game over,” he corrected her. “That or Uni dies to keep our secret.” Sometimes he did joke, badly. Law continued a few steps ahead, just barely turned the corner, when he glimpsed Uni halting in his tracks halfway down the hallway. Law instinctively ducked back, glancing in Emil’s direction. Uni’s footsteps started padding back towards them, and Law looked at Emil, and hoped she did not have murder on her mind. Since he actually did like having Uni around, Law hastened to Penguin’s room and beckoned to Emil as he opened the door. He gestured for her to enter and slipped inside after her, promptly easing the door shut without making a sound.

Law turned around and stared into the darkness. He groped for the light switch and flicked it on, since he doubted Emil would have any qualms hiding in pitch blackness. Not yet a minute after they’d snuck into the room, Law’s eyes widened a small fraction, and he breathed, his tone a tad rueful with a delayed realisation: “This is Uni’s room too.” He wasn’t sure if Emil knew about the change of sleeping arrangements. He didn’t have time to dwell on that. His eyes darted around, seeking out potential hiding places. Penguin’s bed? No, he wouldn’t dare touch the sheets with his bare hands. Nothing against Penguin, but it was for everyone’s sake and sanity that they kept their hands to their own beds.

Law led Emil past the twin rows of bunk beds to the back till they came to a dead end. Law grabbed Emil’s hand and pulled her down behind the bedframe, out of immediate sight from the door. “Stay down,” he whispered. He crossed to the opposite side and dropped to a crouch, leaving the shadows to mask their presence. Unless Uni stepped to the back of the room (Law doubted Uni would, since his bed was nearer to the door; then again, there was no telling if they’d switched sleeping arrangements again), they ought to remain undetected.

Uni’s footsteps grew louder, thudding closer, then paused outside the room door. All was silent for a breath. Then the handle turned slowly, quietly, and Law could see the door slide open a crack. The door was edged wider, and the toe of a black boot peeped out. Despite the absence of an actual threat, Law tensed up and planted his back against the wall as he glanced over at Emil. It struck him how completely idiotic he was acting, for, unlike Emil, he had no reason to be hiding from his own men, in their room, no less, with Emil, no less. While she was decently clothed, and he was fully clothed, a reasonable explanation would elude him. He held his breath as the _thud-thud-thud_ of Uni’s boots echoed to the back. Then -

“Hey, Uni!” a voice called out from down the corridor. Uni paused and turned on his heel. Law watched his boots retreat out the door left ajar. Uni stood half in half out the doorway, and conversed in hushed voices with another of the crew. Something about Bepo detecting a trace of Emil’s scent in the infirmary. To the Heart Pirates, games like Hide and Seek were akin to military operations, and were to be partaken in with the utmost gravity. They would use every skill and tool they had to their advantage. At the news, Uni shut the door instantly and the pair of footsteps pattered down the corridor and eventually faded away.

Law pushed to his feet and strode towards Emil. “The infirmary isn’t far. They’ll be here on our tail any moment now after finding it empty – apart from all the origami left in the closet. That ought to stall them for a bit.” Law took Emil’s hand of his own volition and helped her to her feet. “We have to leave,” he said, urgently pulling her towards the door. Never once did he stop and think about his actions, focusing only on their goal at hand: kitchen, his room; undetected. He eased the door open, and peered out left and right. Relying on Emil’s haki and commentary to signal when it was safe to escape with his damsel, he slipped out, her hand in his, their fingers entwined. He relied on Emil further to get them to the kitchen.

The route to the kitchen necessitated taking the steps up a level and heading back in the opposite direction, but with the others busy downstairs searching the infirmary (and puzzling over the collection of origami in the closet, wondering if they were left-behind clues), and subsequently Penguin’s room (when Bepo was bound to sniff out their scents), the kitchen was devoid of living souls upon their entry. Law released Emil’s hand and prioritised making himself a cup of good, strong coffee. He searched through the drawers and selected a bread knife, to show he was not kidding earlier, lest she accused him of making the game difficult by dragging them here, forcing them to detour.

“Tea for you?” Law asked casually, as a butler would, as the water boiled in the kettle. “Grab anything you want, but tell me when they’re coming. We can exit through the side door, into the mess hall, and out and down the other stairs, going back past the infirmary and Penguin’s room, and continue onwards to the castle – to the sanctuary of my room,” he clarified. He felt a bit like he was losing himself too deep into the game. He decided he wanted biscuits too, so he got out the jar of cookies Emil had kindly baked for the crew. He placed two cookies on a saucer beside his cup of coffee, with a teaspoon sitting in it. If Emil had not yet made herself tea, Law brewed her a cup, and added two cookies to her saucer as well. It was another of his methods to up the challenge: could they make it to his room without any beverage accidents?

“By the way, if you spill a drop, they will be on us like hellhounds, and I will have to be forced to go back on my word, which you know I’m loath to do.” He offered the slightest smile. Poking his head into a fridge, he spotted the abominable object they had just discussed. He took out the can of whipped cream and set it down on a countertop. “If…we take this, we are practically offering ourselves up to be discovered by Bepo. I kid you not, he will smell the whipped cream from the other end of the Tang, and we would be hard-pressed to elude him,” Law explained. “What do you think? Should we up the challenge further and squeeze a dollop on each of your cheeks?”

* * *

**Lizard**

Uni turned around. It was a bummer - it would take them longer to get to the kitchen and then to Law's room but Emil didn't panic nor even hurry. She knew where Uni was, she knew how much time it would take her to hide in Penguin's room... There was something entertaining and even _endearing_ in the way Law jumped to the door and ushered her in. Following, she couldn't help but wonder.

Why?

Was he so ashamed to be seen with her he would rather hide in someone else's room?

While possible, it wasn't Emil's bet. As unreasonable as Law could be, his crew had seen them together _plenty_ of times. They did nothing out of ordinary either: just walked down a corridor. Perfectly normal. Nothing to be worried about.

Was Law low-key looking forward to the chance of frolicking with her and forgot himself in his subtle desire for them to _not_ fail this silly challenge of his?

As nice as it would be, Emil doubted it was the reason.

Law probably was a smidge too stubborn and competitive to be the reason they fail this self-imposed challenge.

Well, there was also a scenario where Law once again forgot himself but this time because he was having _fun_ playing this silly game of sneak around. 

Emil would laugh out loud at this notion if it didn't bring half the Heart Pirates upon them.

_"This is Uni’s room too."_

"What?" Emil rose her eyebrows at him, then frowned. No, it was Penguin's and Shachi's room. Uni's was three doors down the corridor. Wasn't it? She let Law drag her along, further into the room. With each second, she was more willing to believe him that it _was_ Uni's room. Had she remembered the layout wrong? Had they switched rooms when she wasn't looking? Law wasn't pulling her leg, was he? What would he gain? Hey, I made a fool out of you while acting like a fool myself?

She sat down on the floor, behind a bed, with her legs close to her chest. She watched Law. Both by directing her useless eyes at him and by focusing her haki on him. She still sensed Uni - approaching - but her image of Law was even sharper.

Why was he doing this?

He could claim she had pushed him into this room. She wouldn't deny it. She would nod and claim it was the truth. She didn't mind taking the blame of any and all silly actions Law took if it meant he kept his cool captain image in front of his crew and she got to enjoy his goofy side in private.

Or...

There it was. In a span of a few minutes, she had thought Law was having fun twice. Twice! This hopeless man wouldn't know what having fun was if it slapped him in the face and even _if_ he recognised it, he would strangle it, chuck to the ground and crush under his heel, claiming he's utterly _disgusted_ by a notion of _him_ , Trafalgar Enge Lord Law, experiencing such a low emotion as _fun_.

Emil made a mental note to _never_ suggest Law's having fun when he actually seems to have it. Not unless she wants it to end.

The door cracked, and Emil turned her head to face it. She wondered if Clione now slept in this room too. Would he stop Uni in his tracks? Would they both walk inside? Twirling her thumbs, Emil waited and resisted an urge to hum. Should they both come inside - should she and Law be a hair of being found - Emil could rush out and 'tag' one of them while screaming they would never catch her. It should give Law ample time to sneak out of the room while the two chase her.

Ah, Bepo. So they pulled out the big guns now. Could it be Heart Pirates had found everyone _but_ Emil already? She hadn't been paying enough attention, distracted with her origami and then Law's kisses.

Okay, now she wanted more of Law's kisses for the sake of them but _also_ so when Heart Pirates find her, it's when she's in his embrace. Who would be more embarrassed? Law or his crew? Heh, Emil was more than willing to cover for Law's goofs but there were still _some_ aspects of his embarrassment she could expose and relish in.

She let him led her again. And again, it felt like Law was having fun. Sneaking through Polar Tang, undetected. Like children playing in an abandoned building overtaken by forest. Emil warned him when to slow down and be quieter but her attention was more on his hand than anywhere else. Was he even aware he held her hand? It was such a bizarre thought. A pleasant one, but bizarre. _He_ took _her_ hand and _he_ entwined _their_ fingers. First was fun, then voluntary hand-holding for more than three seconds. What was going to happen next? Would Law break into a dance and song while laughing his heart out?

They reached the kitchen. Law pulled out a bread knife - Emil raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. Had he pulled out literally _any_ other knife, she would give him _some_ benefit of the doubt that he indeed _needed_ it for something. But a bread knife? Pfft, no! He'd never had any need for it! He just wanted them to take a detour. Emil didn't blame him. It's been entertaining thus far.

"I'll pass on the whipped cream." She hummed - with her elbow on the counter and chin on hand, she stirred sugar into her black tea. "I don't have the heart to steal it away from Bepo." She shrugged and grabbed a leaf of lettuce for Corazon Jr. "You promised me, Law. While - for your co-operation thus far - I'm willing to accept your increasing demands-" she motioned to the biscuits on saucers- "using a whipped cream would be a bit _too_ much." She picked her tea up, took a small sip and walked over to the side door.

"Besides, my sweet ass is already pushing the line when it comes to sitting on your anti-sweetness bed. Becoming a sweetcheeks would ban me from getting anywhere _near_ it." She winked at him. "I _want_ to get into your bed with you, Law." She opened the door and nodded at it. "Come on, they are close by. If you behave and we get to the castle without a hitch, I might let you spank me later." Was he even into that? Emil had no idea. It was his mention of whips that made her suggest that.

She walked through the mess hall and into the corridor - Heart Pirates were already past the corner. She nodded at Law once more and walked toward the closest staircase. "I suppose I should make another batch of cookies for you." She hummed as she dipped hers into her tea before taking a small bite. "You are running a bit low on them. I hope you don't mind if I borrow one of your kids in the morning to help me with shopping." She chuckled - quieter than her usual laughter so others wouldn't hear it. "That, or you'll come with me yourself. Or no more cookies."

Emil turned her head as they walked past the infirmary. The door was closed but she could sense the broom closet inside was still wide open. "By the way, what's the story behind two upside-down buckets in the closet?" She looked up at Law. "I bet Bepo smelled you were inside. While sure, he might have not mentioned it to the others, I guess it wouldn't hurt to get our stories on the same page." She gently bumped her elbow against his - not hard enough to warrant 'oh what are you doing, I'm going to spill my coffee' reaction. "You were gracious enough to humour me and sit in there with me but the door has never gotten closed and we were sitting with our legs sticking out."

She turned her head to 'look' over her shoulder. "They are close by again. Come on." Holding the saucer, cookies, lettuce leaf and tea in both hands, Emil trotted a bit to the end of the corridor. Not fast enough to spill her drink all over the place but if she didn't speed up, they would be two or three steps short.

"Unless you are fine with them finding out you kissed me in a closet." Emil chuckled as they neared Law's bedroom. "I don't mind either way. I'll go with whatever scenario you pick, just tell me beforehand." Emil considered waiting for Law to open the door, but nah she did it as if it was her own room; served him right for all the times he walked on Caramel as if it belonged to him. "I have to admit I considered demanding you make out with me as soon as we get here." Not even looking in Law's direction, Emil trotted to Corazon Jr. tank and ripped the lettuce leaf into strips. "I wondered what would be your reaction to being caught by your crew in the act but..." She stood upright, faced Law and offered him a gentle smile. No mischief. "I don't know. You've just been surprisingly nice to me so far today."

Emil walked over to the bed, stared at it as she took a sip of her tea and sat down but instead of _on_ the bed, she sat on the floor in front of it. "They are at the door now." She tilted her head. "What do you think, Law? How long till they dare to knock?" She chuckled. "Should I make out a loud sound to make it clear I'm inside? Or do you want to do the honours? Scream my name? Open the door and stare them down?" She lifted her teacup. "You promised to do as I ask of you but I'll give you this one - what do you want to do, Captain?"

* * *

**Lena**

He couldn’t let Emil see him impressed by her stellar quip about whipped cream getting her already-sweet ass barred from his castle, so he shot Emil a condescending look, the corners of his lips dipping slightly. With nothing to offer, he kept silent and turned away from her, only to dart a quizzical look her way, his brows lifting a fraction, when she announced that spanking could be on the menu that afternoon. He had to stop everything he was doing to consider if he would be into that, but the more he considered it, the greater his uncertainty.

On one hand, she deserved a spanking for – whatever reasons he had been upset with her months ago. He couldn’t remember. “Yes, but of all the glorious things we could do to your sweet ass, nothing trumps adding to their sweetness by gluing towers of donuts on them.” He glanced in her direction, hoped that comment wouldn’t be the trigger to torpedo their ceasefire. “And we’ll see,” he said, when she said either one of his crew or he would have to help her with shopping for ingredients to replenish their cookie stash.

Trusting in Emil’s guidance, he trailed her out the kitchen, down the stairs, past the infirmary, along the corridor. He paused when she paused, walked when she walked, followed all her cues without hesitation. He couldn’t resist mimicking her manner of holding the saucer, with his tea and cookies, in both hands, and he adopted the stealthy gait and grave expression of an agent involved in a covert mission, of which failure meant death. He matched Emil’s pace, and the tea sloshed dangerously in his cup, though not a drop spilled over.

Emil had a good point: Bepo would detect their smells lingering in the closet and he would be curious and troubled, unable to work out an explanation. Then, was he fine with the crew finding out he’d kissed Emil in the closet? Law slowed in his steps. If his crew believed him capable of such silliness, he should order them to walk the plank. “Why bother?” Law asked. “If they’re curious, let them puzzle over it. No need to humour them with an explanation we don’t owe. And you’re forgetting the pile of origami left inside. An open closet, with two upside-down buckets and heaps of origami – truly the greatest mystery. Should keep them busy for a while trying to unravel it.” Still, all right, he would humour Emil with a fabricated story to feed the inquisitive children.

“If there’s to be a story…” Law began. He cleared his throat and launched into a narration: “Emil was sitting in the closet folding origami and the door was open when I walked into the room. She looked extra cosy sitting on her little bucket, and I started to wonder if there was something appealing about the ambience in the closet and thus, I overturned a bucket and joined her. While soaking in the relaxing atmosphere, I reached for the paper and folded some origami to fully immerse myself in the process. I discovered it was rather therapeutic, and from now onwards, I shall fold origami whenever the urge to kill is ignited in me.” He looked at Emil for her opinion.

“How’s that? Otherwise, we could say nothing. I like keeping them in suspense from time to time. It’s more fun that way.” Immediately, he grimaced at the foul word that escaped his lips: _fun_. He needed to wash his mouth with soap and then recite medical textbooks to cleanse his soul after this. “Oh, and the only way they’d find out we’d kissed, is if you told them. In which case, it’s your word against mine,” Law hastily added. “ _In which case,_ surely, they’d believe their own captain’s word over that of a…friend’s.” At least, he certainly hoped so.

Since he’d invited her to his room, and had nothing to hide (nothing incriminating left in the open, at least), Law didn’t mind Emil opening his room door and waltzing into his castle. It surprised him that his face hadn’t scrunched up in annoyance at her gall, but remained calm and relaxed. Though Emil feeding his turtle without his permission was a bit much and his brows twitched before he released a quiet breath. Just a lettuce leaf, nothing to sweat over. He placed his tea down on the desk and turned around to Emil.

“No, no. No,” he added, for emphasis on how much he disagreed with her remark that he’d been nice to her. “No, you’re imagining things. I haven’t been nice. If you think I have been nice, well, I wonder why I’ve been acting that way? See, I do everything for a reason. And whenever I do ‘nice’ things, people are usually, warrantably, wary and afraid, anticipating what’s to come next,” he said darkly, affecting the tone of a dark lord – however dark lords sounded, their voices deep and threatening. He set his lips into a thin line when Emil wondered about his reaction to being caught in the act. Turning away from her, he brooded over it with furrowed brows and a fist pressed to his mouth. Caught in the act with Emil? A most deplorable situation, considering he forbade the crew from bringing women back to bed. He turned back to Emil when she mentioned the crew were outside. He noticed her sitting on the floor, and blinked in disbelief at her politeness of demeanour, considering she could’ve thrown herself onto his bed and rolled around, entangling herself in his sheets. He stood by the desk, eyeing her for a second or two (even in jest, he’d not have expected her to call him captain), before he took his tea and cookies and sat down on the floor beside her.

“How rare of you to pass up the opportunity to order me around,” he mused wryly. “You could’ve jumped into my anti-sweetness bed with your extra-sweetcheeks and told me to open the door…but that would ruin this, wouldn’t it?” He couldn’t say for sure what _it_ was. “And are you actually being considerate by keeping your sweet ass out of the anti-sweetness zone?” He took a sip of his tea, deciding he would never utter the word ‘sweet’ again for the rest of the week. A brief moment of silence (on his part) passed, as he stared at Corazon Jr. happily munching the lettuce. What did he want to do?

“My sister and I used to have these tea parties in her room,” he said quietly, setting down his cup with a clink on the saucer. “There was never any real tea, so I had to pretend I enjoyed drinking down air from a tiny plastic cup. There were never any real cookies, either. You’d think the least she could do to thank me for my time and presence and acting was to prepare real food,” he went on, his voice a touch rueful. Shaking himself out of that fleeting reminiscence, he raised his tea to Emil and toasted her. “To your sweet ass,” he deadpanned. He downed a gulp of tea and set the cup down. “…And they’ll wait, alright, those outside.” He tipped his head back slightly and let out a sigh. “When it comes to games and winning, they’re bloodthirsty hounds. They’ll be lurking in wait until I open the door or say something.” He pulled a lopsided smirk as he considered her suggestion of him screaming her name.

“Which name? Satan?” he whispered, a note of amusement colouring his tone. Removing his hat, he dumped it on the bed and brushed his fingers through his hair. “No, keep quiet…and I’ll do as I promised.” He moved his tea aside and stretched out his legs, flexing his feet. He kept his voice low and level. “They’re outside because Bepo detected our scents, because they know we’re in here, so instead, we ought to stay absolutely quiet, make them wait in suspense, until the suspense kills them. They’ll be agonising over whether to knock, and they’ll wonder if Bepo got it wrong. Then they’ll wonder if we’re dead, unconscious, in danger. They’ll wonder if they should break the door down, if they knocked and called out, and still received no answer.” He cast Emil a sidelong look, before he bent a knee, and scooted closer towards her. He reached out a hand and his fingers trailed along her jaw.

“Close your eyes,” he said, cupping her cheek. If she did close her eyes, he leaned over, pried her cup from her hand and put it down safely. Then his hand settled on her thigh, his lips pausing barely an inch from hers. He exhaled against her mouth, the warmth of his breath caressing her lips. He kissed her, brief and gentle, before pulling back to shift closer, turning more towards her, his hand sliding down to her neck. He pressed his lips to hers again. Kissing her now felt different from the previous times they’d slept together, months ago, those casual flings in Emil’s bed. Those kisses had been quick and rougher, intense, but seemingly lacking of substance. As he kissed her now, despite the slow and gentle kisses, a sense of warmth filled his chest. He stroked her face and pushed his hand through her hair. His foot knocked into his cup and tea spilled over onto the saucer. Coincidentally, there was a loud thud on the other side of the door, but Law ignored it. His hand slid to her chest, about to guide her to the floor, when he drew back and acted as though nothing had happened.

“You can open your eyes,” he said, moving back to his spot on the floor. He picked up his cup and brought it to his lips. “This is bad. At this rate, they’ll never leave, and you’ll be stuck here for good. And if you leave, they win, and you lose the game.” He paused to contemplate their options. “I could dismember you into smaller parts and hide each part in a different location. If they can’t find your whole body, they won’t win… Though I still stand by the option of keeping quiet, until they-” His eyes darted to the door at the sound of three slow tentative knocks.

“Emil? Captain?” a voice cried out from outside. Three quick, sharp knocks followed. “T-There’s been an emergency! Something’s wrong! B-Bepo’s passed out.”

“He’s not breathing!” yelled another voice. “Captain? Emil?”

If Emil had been tracking them with her haki, a minute ago, while Law was kissing her, Bepo had collapsed onto the floor along the corridor – all merely an act, of course. The Heart Pirates had decided to play to Law’s and Emil’s weakness: Bepo. Wouldn’t they be concerned enough to step out and check on Bepo? was Shachi’s thinking when he devised that clever plan.

Law stared at the closed door, suspicion battling concern in his eyes. He glanced at Emil, and asked, “Well? Is Bepo outside?”

* * *

**Lizard**

Sipping her tea, Emil rose an eyebrow and a corner of her lips at the fact Law sat beside her. On the floor. Not long ago, she wouldn't have believed if someone told her he would sit on the floor with her instead of opting for a comfy bed, chair, couch or whatever else _away_ from her. This day though, he had chosen to join her in the broom closet so who knew what other miracles were to come. Law might deny being nice but from where she _sat_ , what he had been doing so far seemed to _sit_ right in this category one might call 'being nice'.

Emil decided not to question this out loud tough, least Law decides to consciously rectify it. Both 'fun' and 'nice' should be considered forbidden words in conjunction with Law. The longer he was unaware he partake in those _despicable_ activities, the better. Better both for him and Emil and possibly more people around them.

Thought, Emil had to admit to herself that she _was_ curious just what kind of _villainous_ and _foul_ acts Law could have possibly had in store for her should he actually _been_ nice to her. A mountain of doughnuts glued to ger butt probably. Again. Emil shuddered at the idea of having to scrape all the bits from her bed. Again. She already _had_ burned one set of bedsheets.

He was right though. It _was_ unlike her to not jump onto the bed, but... Would it be truly random if she _always_ did the silly stuff? If she _always_ pushed his buttons? On top of that, if she tried to jeopardise his reputation of this gloomy (if caring) edge lord among his crew, he would have ratted her out to the said crew and found some excuse to not grant her wish. He would have kicked her out without satisfying her yearning for his attention, wouldn' he?

Holding her cup close to her lips, she slowly sipped her tea. Her sweet tea... And mused as her eyes trailed to Law and then to the door.

How many of them would jump on the opportunity to snuggle and smooch with her?

Many. Probably. Maybe _that's_ why the idea of getting it from Law felt so alluring? From them, it would be cheap and easy. From Law... From him, it would be... Rare... Earned... _Special_.

That, or she _really_ was starved for soft affection and Law just happened to be the one to accidentally poke it.

She tilted her head toward Law at the mention of his sister. She had no idea Law had a sister. As amusing and laughable was the picture of small Law sitting at a tiny table and pretending to drink from a tinier pink teacup while a female and _smiling_ version of him served him invisible cookies... Emil didn't laugh... All she offered was a sad smile. He missed her, didn't he?

'Sad'. Another word to be grouped with 'fun' and 'nice'. A man so _obviously_ enigmatic as Law, couldn't _possibly_ feel such a trivial and _simple_ emotion as sadness.

Otherwise, one might even think Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death, was a human!

He was one though. One with a sad past that affected him to this day and who was Emil, out of all people, to make fun of _that_?

She toasted him but said nothing, getting back to being 'busy' with her hands on the cup and her nose inside of it, wetting her lips in the warm and aromatic liquid. Though, she 'glanced' over her shoulder when he threw his hat onto the bed. Lowering her tea, she lifted her chin, eyeing Law's hair. She didn't have to of course - she could be facing the other direction - but she enjoyed 'pretending' to see. She could offer more ques this way. Right that moment, with her eyes on Law's hair... She liked it. Law's messy, hair, with locks sticking out in all directions. And they were soft too, thought for that she couldn't rely on her haki but on her memory of all the times she had dipped her fingers into it. 

What was the alternative? Slick back with some gel? Emil would hate that.

She didn't even mock him for asking her to close her eyes. She just did it. Yes, it made no difference to her. Yes, her eyes were a tool she used to communicate better with the world but were _useless_ the other way around. But... It made a difference to Law and Emil wanted what Law was about to do _more_ than to quip at him.

Her eyes were closed but her lips parted and she held her breath. She _felt_ him. His distracting presence with her haki; his calm breath on her lips; she could have _sworn_ she felt his _warmth_ radiating against her skin but then again it could have been her own blush. Not sure what to do with her hands _again_ , she refrained to holding them together, twirling her thumbs around each other over and over as she _waited_.

An eternity.

His breath turned into the kiss. A gentle touch against her lips. A light pressure of his nose against the side of hers. Even his palm on her cheek added to this _soft_ feeling. She leant in when he pulled away, ready to ask for more but he just shifted his position and was at it again.

Emil couldn't help but smile against his lips. As his hands wandered, so did Emil's. She touched his jaw with her fingertips and slid them along to his ears and under them. Her thumbs stroked hairs of his sideburns while her fingertips dipped into the short hair on his nape. They were as soft as she remembered. It was just a kiss - just an ordinary kiss - yet it was like laying on a big heap of the fuzziest fluff. It somehow enveloped her and hugged. It was nice. Comfortable. Relaxing. _W_ _arm_.

He pulled away. Emil tried to follow but he moved too far and broke the kiss. With lips parted and eyes only lidded, she found herself yearning for more.

She chuckled.

Wasn't it a repeat of what had happened in the closet? They kissed. She was left breathless and _dazed_ while Law acted as if nothing was out of ordinary. This in on itself was abnormal - usually, it was the other way around.

Breathing out, Emil turned her head to face the big silhouette of Bepo she sensed beyond the metal wall. She blinked once. Twice. Picked up her cup of tea and pulled her legs close as she leant back against the bed frame. "I have to applaud them for actually getting Bepo on the floor." She said in a hushed tone and took a sip before glancing at Law over the rim. She had pink cheeks, didn't she? They sure were warm. Like her whole chest. "He's definitely breathing through. I think they are aware I can sense through walls but they might have a wrong idea just how _detailed_ it is." She leant to Law an inch. "I can sense Bepo's ears twitching and it's adorable." She sat upright but tilted her head instead. "Now, what should we do about them... I can't exactly shout out because that would count as them finding me and if I _weren't_ here, there would be no reason for you not to check on him."

Emil looked at Law as she tried to come up with a solution. "You could call out to Bepo that if he doesn't end this act, he won't get any more fish pastries from me but then again how would you know that without me being here to... Tell... You." Emil's smile grew wide as she dug into her pockets and took out a small den den mushi. Wiggling like happy jello, she called Law's and rose to her feet. "Open your room, Law." She put her teacup on Law's desk and reached out to help him up. "Make them aware you've opened it." Her smile grew in amusement but she kept her voice low. "You seem so eager to slice me up, Law, why not just _swap_ me with your bucket in the infirmary, or something in the galley or even a fish outside?" She moved half a step closer - it was entertaining to come up with a plan to fool his crew _with_ Law. Having his amazing powers at her disposal; to plan _with_ them, not _around_ them was exhilarating. "You don't have to do that of course, as long as they _think_ you've done it, it's fine. Yes, I was here. Yes, there's no scent trail of me leaving your room but who has ever said the only way out of here is through this door?"

"Let's win this game, Law." Smirking, Emil stepped away and stood by the closet - even if Law or anyone opened the door, no one should see her, as long as they stayed in the corridor outside. "Let's see if you can win against your crew and stop them from finding me." She should play into his competitiveness, shouldn't she? "Open your room, make them believe you teleported me somewhere else, pick up your den den and tell them I told you they were faking it and since they pulled out big guns and brought Bepo, I'll pull out big guns and refuse to make them cookies anytime soon. Them, but not you." She chuckled. "You are, in fact, promised something for helping me out. And if they hear my voice - well, we _are_ on a call, aren't we, Captain?"

Did she just promise Law 'something'? Emil guessed that yes, she had but while she despised making promises she didn't know details of, in this case, it worked in her favour - she could give Law a cup of coffee and claim it was 'something'.

* * *

**Lena**

So Bepo was fine. Law would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved, though he had found the timing and location of Bepo’s collapse suspiciously coincidental. He could be disappointed in Bepo’s dishonesty, but then Bepo was sometimes, or more often than not, still a victim of peer pressure. Law let out a breath. His legs outstretched, he crossed his ankles, listened as Emil went through their options. In the background, his den den mushi started puru-puruing when Emil called it.

Law did not take the hand offered by Emil, glancing aside, pretending he had missed the gesture, though he stood up too, curious about the devious scheme she was devising in her mind. A fleeting smile touched his lips when Emil suggested they trick the crew into thinking he had teleported her elsewhere on the Tang.

 _Let’s win this game_ , Emil said. The proposition was enticing, even if the captain should be siding with his crew rather than against them. Yet, in the games they played, they played with a competitive savageness and cunning that dismissed such existing relations. A crew member could’ve saved the life of the other, could’ve carried them in their arms as they, together, fled from a lost battle, the enemy giving pursuit, but still, when they played, all of that was forgotten, put aside. They didn’t even always play for a prize, but the taste of sweet triumph. Besides, if they accused him of being unsupportive, he could feign neutrality. Who would question his word?

“Let’s win?” Law said. “You forget I’m a non-participant.” Still, he was surprised to hear her call him Captain. He could have been imagining it, but he was sure she said it without any mockery, and with a capital C. Perhaps it was that respect she appeared to be giving him, perhaps it was that the day had revealed another curious moment they’d shared, that he would have to studiously reflect upon later, but there wasn’t a single thought that passed through his head about letting Emil lose.

The den den continued to ring. Outside, someone knocked again on the door.

“Captain? Captain! Emil?”

“We know you’re both in there! Bepo wouldn’t lie—”

And there it was, the slip of someone tongue that must now be bitten hard. The knocking ceased. Outside, it grew deathly quiet and still, and the crew collectively even tried holding their breaths, as though they suspected Emil or Law could hear their excited breathing.

Law picked up his den den, declined the call, and slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. It sat in there snug and silent. Law ambled around the room with slow deliberation and paused at the door. He put his hand on the handle and, inclining his head to one side, looked up at Emil. Although he had already made up his mind, he didn’t want to give her that impression-that, without any hesitation, he had decided. He could open the door. He could let the crew in. He could determine Emil’s loss, the crew’s victory. All that power in his hands. He wanted her to know that. Then, he lifted his other hand and activated Room.

The blue dome stayed up for several seconds before it vanished into his palm. Speculative whispers drifted through the door from the corridor. Law opened the door. He hadn’t given Emil any warning, but he expected she’d duck into his closet if any of the crew dared barge in, trespassing on restricted territory. He had opened the door a small gap, not too small to seem unusually secretive like he was harbouring a fugitive, but not too wide either that would allow them full view into the room. Still, if Emil stood in the corner by the closet, she was already out of sight from the door.

“What is it?” Law looked down and caught Bepo’s peeking eyes. Bepo hurriedly squeezed them shut, in such a way that gave his features too strained an expression for his unconsciousness to be anything but faked. Half a dozen of the crew stood around, goggling, gaping, lollygagging. They had expectant, probing looks, their eyes flicking side to side, eager paparazzi attempting to peer over Law’s shoulders. They fought to maintain poker faces when they incidentally caught Law’s gaze, but one of them faltered and started pacing. Nobody answered Law’s question.

“Someone was saying Bepo just happened to collapse in front of my door?”

“Yes- Well, no- Well, yes, actually,” some brave soul summoned forth the words. “H-He had something bad to eat.”

“Then why are the rest of you here? Did you all get food poisoning?” There was a note of mock concern in Law’s voice, though the look he gave them glinted with something devilish. He had a good variety of remedies he could prescribe for their taking, after all.

“We were playing a game. We caught Bepo, and then he ran, and we chased him—”

“What did I say about running in the Tang?” It was not his wisest choice of words. Law realized with distaste how he sounded like a schoolteacher.

“It was an emergency. You said it was okay then!”

“Yeah, Bepo was turning blue in the face. So we chased him out of concern. We don’t know why he ran. He probably thought we were going to tag him, but technically, he already lost the moment we spotted him out of hiding.”

“Okay,” Law said. For a second, the crew’s tense faces relaxed a tinge. Then bewilderment crossed their faces when Law held out his den den mushi. He waited for Emil to ring it, as was their plan—as was Emil’s suggestion, really, waited for Emil to deliver her message personally. After seeing his Room activated, after this call, he was sure they would disperse. No doubt they wouldn’t think Emil would call him from his room? Since there was a chance they could hear her voice coming from inside, Law closed his door and stood in front of it.

“You’re hiding something.” Shachi threw him a dubious look, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m entitled to my privacy,” Law said.

Shachi was good at holding an unblinking stare, but then he had never outmatched Law. Shachi blinked and glanced aside.

Law addressed the crew: “Emil’s volunteered to be the stand-in doctor for the day. She’s already, in fact, made a prognosis of Bepo’s condition.” His den den puru-purued and Law answered on the second ring. “Yes, Emil?” He had no idea why he had defaulted into his pretentious voice, the kind reserved for hoity-toity folks he sometimes had the displeasure of mingling with when he was dressed and disguised as one of their kind. Either way, since he had started with that voice, he could only continue, “Have you reached just fine? How’s the view up there?”

The crew exchanged looks. Law went on, “Another thing, _Doctor Emilia_. I have some gentlemen with me who claim they’ve consumed something utterly disagreeable. I thought you would like to be the one to call them out on their bullshit, no?”

* * *

**Lizard**

A small frown coloured Emil's features when Law declined the call. She had meant for him to open the door with the call already on so she could act as if she knew what the crew said from it, not because she stood no more than a dozen steps away from them. Was Law going to rat her out after all? Was he displeased with the excitement she had displayed at the idea of having his powers at her own disposal? Was he just being his usual jerk? Refusing to admit straight away he agreed.

Emil shrugged and turned, hiding into the corner behind the wardrobe. It didn't matter. Did it? Yes, it would be a shame should it end there and then but it had been fun. The close call in Uni's room flashed through her memories and she couldn't help but grin. Yes, it _had_ been fun and Emil didn't mind losing a game. She would win the next round.

An odd but familiar sensation washed over her, then Law opened the door.

Emil's smile widened and she held back a chuckle, leaning further back into the wardrobe.

_"What is it?"_

Emil lifted her hands to her lips - if they were to stretch wider they would split her head in half. Law played along! She pressed her palms against her mouth harder. He played along and the last thing she needed was a burst of laughter. Law questioned them and they fumbled around, coming up with more excuses; more accusations. Emil listened on them, catching each and every word.

Law lifted his den den mushi.

Emil lifted her eyebrows. Was he asking her to call him now? She shrugged - there was nothing really to lose here - and took out her own den den.

Law closed the door.

Emil heard some more voices but they were muffled now. Was it Shachi?

She stepped out from her hiding and grabbed the back of Law's desk chair.

Law picked up the call.

"Hello, Law." She rolled her eyes at his tone but her smile stayed. "I'm at the place, yes." She's been meaning to _sit_ on the chair but with Law's question, she _hopped_ on top of it and let it spin a bit. Now, she was 'up there' even if the crew was likely to think Law mean up on the deck outside not up, on his chair. "The view up here is spectacular as per usual, Law. Thank you for asking."

"As for your question of medical nature, Captain Law." Emil lowered herself only enough to kick the floor and spin the chair some more. "As you have accurately summarised, it _is_ bullshit. For someone suffering from disagreeable food, I find it _fascinating_ how the unfortunate patient in question had laid down. Relaxed, even bobbing his feet. It was _hardly_ an example of someone suffering from a painful tummy ache."

Both through the den den and the door, Emil heard the crew's murmurs but she couldn't pick up distinct words.

"Furthermore, should the patient _really_ suffer from disagreeable food, I find your first aid _obscenely_ lacking." She had to be careful not to mention any of the excuses they had mentioned to Law; any that - in theory - she shouldn't have heard. "You tried to get Law's attention, yes, that's good - he's the best doctor after all - but I can't help but question just _why_ none of you was tending to them. Your act was lacking. Only Penguin stood remotely close to Bepo - not ever looking at him - while the rest congregated around the door. Shouldn't the proportion be the other way around? I certainly _do_ hope you do better next time if you wish to fool either me or your Captain, guys. As for the _treatment_ for you all, I suppose a cookie light diet for the next two weeks should be sufficient."

Now, they protested.

Emil chuckled. "Bepo! Next time they try to pull you into playing _against_ me, remember that - unlike them - I have treats to give to those who side with me. Bye, I have a date to go to~" She hung up, placed her den den on the desk and kicked the floor again, spinning in the chair.

Did she win? Were they going to give up? Was the game still going? Who knew. Maybe they would go look for her outside. Even if Bepo decided to _still_ help them out, it would be hard to find a scent trail that simply _wasn't_ there. Emil smiled to herself. Yes, if this whole day had taught her anything was that working _with_ Law against his crew (or anyone else probably) was as much if not more amusing than annoying Law himself.

She would have to do it more.

"Hello, Captain," Emil hummed and shifted on the chair when he walked back - kneeling on the seat, she rested her elbows on the backrest and head on her palms. "Technically, you have proven to be neutral as you wished to be during those games. _They_ tried to fool you into giving away my position first so you fooled them into believing I wasn't here. Thank you, Law. For being neutral." With a slight smile, she lowered herself so her chin was ontop the backrest. "Say, do you still have those skull-shaped glasses I gave you? Sure, we still have our brews..." Speaking about, Emil leaned over and picked up her mug... No, it was Law's. They looked the same to her but a sniff was enough to know it was Law's coffee, not her tea. She put it away and picked the correct mug. "But since you probably wouldn't be happy with a victory hug, I suppose we could go with a victory drink. Even if I don't have any bottles over here." She winked at him. "Unless you _do_ want to get physical."

"Either way." Emil got up high again, with her elbows on the backrest and the mug at her lips. With a smirk, she took a sip, directing her eyes at Law from over the edge. "I kind of promised you a 'something' for your help. While I technically could give you a pat on the shoulder and claim it is the promised 'something', I'm willing to hear out your suggestion first, Law." She hummed and took another sip. "Do you have any preference for what this small 'something' should be, Captain?"

Small. That was the only hint she was going to give him. If he asked for something small, she probably would go with it. Should he ask for anything big; important... There were bigger things she was willing to go with but there were many she wouldn't. If he so wished, she could call him 'Captain' for the rest of the day but not for the rest of 'always'.

* * *

**Lena**

All was going swell. Perhaps he allowed himself a tiny bit of gratification that Emil had addressed him as Captain, not once, but twice, this time while the crew was within earshot, no less, and with the absence of any hint of mockery in her voice. Truly a bizarre phenomenon, way above raining toads and talking rocks. It was also for the best the door was closed, and he couldn’t see Emil solo-merry-go-rounding on his chair, or he might’ve been tempted to activate his Room and, with a flick of his wrist, send the chair spinning right out through the doorway into the mob gathered there. Ignorance: such bliss.

He stayed quiet, let Emil take centre stage, as she delivered her in-depth analysis of their farcical pretence, an analysis he was proud of, even as he was a tad disappointed in the crew’s weak fabrications.

In a sense, he was glad to leave it to Emil to call them out and tell them off. The crew, not unlike children, needed a parental authority figure to listen to, for in informal and unimportant matters, in disputes over priorities and where indulgence crossed the line into addiction, whether pizza should be served with or without pineapple, they didn’t always listen when he talked, especially when they found his opinions objectionable.

A small smile threatened to slip onto Law’s face when Emil threatened to withhold the crew’s favourite cookies. Like children, so easily bribed and so easily manipulated (honestly, for a second, Law was ashamed on their behalf), the crew dropped their acts, exchanged horrified looks, and hung their heads, that for a moment they could’ve been funeralgoers mourning the passing of a friend, the way they stood around Bepo’s recumbent body. Only Shachi and Penguin eyed Law with challenging looks that suggested this was far from over. Law shrugged a there-you-have-it shrug with affected nonchalance, a faint smirk tugging on a corner of his lips. Then he looked down and his features sobered. Law frowned.

While the crew wore sullen expressions, Bepo looked devastated, a dazed look in his eyes, and curled up on his side. He looked almost the way he did when he had first killed someone. Law felt it was unnecessary for Emil to torture Bepo to this extent. After all, it was in Bepo’s nature to be susceptible to peer pressure. Both the crew and Emil were people Bepo cherished. He could not bear to pick a side and play favourites.

Law kept the den den mushi in his pocket and hunkered down beside Bepo. He placed a hand on Bepo’s shoulder, a gesture carried over from their adolescent years. Whenever Bepo was upset, Law would put his hand on Bepo’s shoulder or head and say, in a deep, saintly voice, ‘You are healed.’ Law would have been mortified for anyone to have overheard his playing at a divine being, but so far, he was safe from judgment. Only Bepo was privy to his silliness. Ultimately, a small sacrifice of his dignity was worth the smile on Bepo’s face.

Bepo looked up and gave a strained smile that faltered in a blink. Bepo blinked again. “Emil isn’t upset, is she?” Before Law could answer, Bepo went on, his brows creased, barely any pause between his words: “It wasn’t like I was playing against her. It wasn’t anything like that.” Right up there with Law and, admittedly, Shachi and Penguin, Emil was one of Bepo’s favourite people he had met on his travels. Already he was agonising over how he could make it up to her. He lowered his gaze to the floor and released a sigh. Then Bepo’s eyes flicked up to Law and widened. “You’re not upset, are you?”

“Nobody’s upset. It was just a game.” Law patted Bepo on the shoulder. “Drink some water and rest. I’ll look for you later, okay?”

Bepo nodded, his features relaxing with relief. He sat up, and Law stood up to address the crew.

“I’d concur with Emil’s suggested treatment. A cookie-light or cookie- _less_ diet would be good while the rest of you recover from your upset stomachs,” Law said. “Really, Emil is only looking out for the lot of you.”

He could have been talking to the wall, to the grease stains on their boiler suits, to the flecks of dirt on the soles of their shoes, for although he swept his gaze over the crew while he spoke, they were huddled together, shoulders hunched over, whispering and muttering among themselves. They weren’t very furtive about it either. Law caught snippets of their conversation.

“Who is it? You think it could be Jean Bart?”

“That traitorous bastard!”

“Yeah, Emil and Bartie seemed friendly, way, way, waaay too friendly, if you ask me. You think she prefers giants?”

Someone slapped someone on the back. “Size matters, don’t you know?”

“But can you imagine them dating? He’s like, three times her size and height, what?”

None of the crew could have suspected it could be their captain Emil had a ‘date’ with. They had seen the times Law had shied away from physical contact with Emil in the past and had kept their amusement to themselves. As they had customarily queued up for her goodbye hugs, Law had infallibly excused himself. They couldn’t imagine him dating either. No need to make themselves sick in the stomachs.

Leaning casually against the door, Law chimed in, increasing his volume a notch, “Didn’t Emil mention the fisherman she met off the wharf?” He paused, waited until their chatter faded into silence and all their heads turned very slowly towards him. “They’re going fishing and then having dinner at his restaurant,” Law said smoothly. “She told me he was a chef too, so they were going to compare and exchange recipes, something like that.”

“What?” Shachi gasped, after a protracted pause. He became a broken record. “What, what, _what_?” Another gasp. “That jerk.”

“We can’t be standing here fighting among ourselves when the enemy is out there!” proclaimed one of the crew. “It’s our time to shine!”

The lot of them dispersed like a flash of lightning, a new goal on their agendas, a new challenge locked into their heads, their determination and spirits reawakened. Law repressed a smile; he didn’t like lying to the crew, as much as he could restrain himself. But who was to say Emil hadn’t met a fisherman? Surely she had encountered one on her voyages. Any man who fished was a fisherman. Even he was a fisherman from time to time.

Emil was on his chair when he re-entered his room. And there it was again: _Hello, Captain._ A title was a title, but one couldn’t deny the connotation of respect. Would Emil make this a habit? Law arched his brows a fraction, then closed the door. Emil’s thanks was unexpected, and prompted an immediate clarification: “They don’t need to win all the time. Sometimes, they need to be humbled by losing.” He said it like it was no big deal.

Law moved over to Corazon Jr.’s tank, reaching in to push a piece of lettuce towards the overstuffed turtle. Emil was offering him a victory drink, hug, or something physical? Law had his back to Emil, watching the turtle munch on the lettuce with lethargy. To think Emil would extend him such consideration, the option to choose his reward. A year ago, she’d have attack-hugged him. Were they getting somewhere, finally? The absence of hostility or conflict in their interactions was quite rare, that he had to properly ponder what ‘small something’ he could request that wouldn’t upset their status quo. He turned around, looked over Emil in his chair. He did not tell her to get off, and even if she had spun in circles in his presence, he said nothing, displayed neither scowl nor frown. Instead, since she was suspiciously nice, he flashed an arbitrary smile.

Emil’s secret recipe for Bepo’s favourite fishy treats. Jars of cookies for the crew, because they were addicts and deprivation would make them miserable-ergo, he would be miserable. A book? A graverobbing escapade? A slight furrow creased his brow. This was proving harder than it should’ve been. He didn’t exactly want any small something from her. But he couldn’t say, _Surprise me,_ either, for that was only a regret in the making.

Law ambled towards the chair and stood in front of Emil. Close enough that with a tilt of his head, he could taste the skin on her forehead. Close enough that he reached out, brushed a lock of Emil’s hair that wasn’t even in her face in the first place; brushed it for the sake of brushing, simply that.

 _As your captain, I order you to undress._ Like hell, he would say something appalling like that. Perhaps Shachi would. Besides, if he was going to go with that request, he would say, _As your doctor,_ instead.

His fingertips grazed down Emil’s cheek, almost a caress. Then he took a step to the side and leaned past Emil. From the top drawer of his desk, he got out the pair of skull-shaped shot glasses. He set them down beside his half-empty mug of coffee. In a flash of blue light, with a gesture of his hand, he turned the mug of coffee into a bottle of red wine. Nobody could stop him from serving wine in shot glasses. Without touching the bottle, he extracted the cork and filled both shot glasses, the bottle levitating in the air.

“The crew were worried about your date,” Law said. He picked up both glasses and extended one to Emil. “I told them you’d met some fisherman and was having dinner with him, so now they’re all out there hoping to save you from being reeled in by him, hook, line, and sinker.” He leaned against one side of the desk and swirled the wine in his glass. After a beat, he said, “Your small something- what about dinner?” He inclined his head a little to the side, a smile flickering on his face. “Wouldn’t you like to see the looks on their faces when they realise with whom your date is with?”

* * *

**Lizard**

Just what was _wrong_ with her that day? There, it happened _again_! With him standing this close, she could feel his warmth. She could feel his breath on her forehead. The moment he brushed her hair away, touched her cheek, she went soft like a putty - content to be kneaded and moulded to his liking. Emil had suspected that she might simply be starved for soft affection but _this_ was getting stupid! Just for how much longer was she going to react to him in that way?!

Yet, she wanted more.

With her eyes lidded and the mug low, she found herself missing his attention the moment it turned toward the glasses.

_I love your smirk, Em. It makes me want to kiss you._

Tightness gripped Emil's chest and she took a sip of her lukewarm tea to hide her expression. She blinked, pushing away tears. If she 'missed' Law's attention then - by comparison - she longed, yearned _and_ ached for Zack's. Was it what it had been? A tiny taste, a shadow of what she _used_ to have?

Law offered her a glass.

With a quiet, but steady 'thanks' and - thank heavens - _unshaken_ hand, Emil took it. She even reached out to click his glass before taking a sip. With eyes closed and her nose now in the opening of the skull glass, she took in a deep breathe. It might look like she was enjoying the aroma, but she needed to collect herself.

"A date?" Emil turned her head to 'look' at him with her eyebrows raised as high as possible. Law? Trafalgar Law willing to admit to his crew that they had been intimate? She let go of a short breath. "I have to admit, Law." Emil shifted off the chair and - with her knees stiff as if packed full of cotton - moved to the desk to lean against it by his side. "You _surprised_ me. Congratulations." She put away the tea mug and moved to click their wine shot glasses again.

Emil didn't mock him. She _was_ surprised. She did _not_ expect him to ask for a public date. The moment he'd asked for dinner, she pictured herself cooking him yet another meal onboard _Caramel_. Her imagination had been far, far away from an idea of a fake date to confuse his crew.

"You know what?" She mused, rolling the edge of the glass across her lower lip. "I like it. This wish is on me. You get another small something." She chuckled, her mind already spinning possible ideas and outcomes, happy to get distracted with something at hand. "Do you wanna go all in for that? Sure we could just go now and visit some cafe - it would be enough to confound your adorable crew but why not go big?" Emil bumped her elbow against his. "We could reserve a table in some fancy restaurant and get all dressed up. I have a couple of dresses stashed on _Caramel_ , if you want to go, I'll let you pick which I should wear."

"Either way, we should leave some hints for the crew so they even have _any_ idea where to look for me and my..." Humming, Emil tilted her head to 'look' up at him; a playful smirk on her lips. She reached up and - much like Law had before - brushed her fingers through the hair on his temple, then left a feather-like touch on his cheek as she lowered her hand. " _Fisherman_ date." She chuckled and shrugged, once again looking forward, in the general direction of Corazon Jr.'s tank. "Then again, I'm a fish; any man on a date with me could be called a fisherman."

Thinking about it: had she ever been on a genuine date?

Emil downed the rest of the wine and placed the glass on the desk. "I'll be running while no one's right at the door. I gotta go find Bepo. I might have gone too harsh on him - he seemed very upset out there." She pushed away and trotted to the door. "Meet me on _Caramel_ when you feel like going. I'll dig out the dresses. We can both get fancied up over there. Or not. Your choice." She chuckled and winked at him, her hand already on the door handle. "I might be even willing to wear high heels if you get into a suit and a tie. See you later, Fisherman."

She left.

Last Law noticed he made her act off. Even more than already had.

It didn't take Emil long to find Bepo - he sat in the galley, his head low, over a mug of hot brew. Chocolate, judging from the smell.

His ears flicked and he lifted his head before Emil announced herself. "Emil! I thought..." He lowered his ears and dropped his shoulders. "I thought you went for a date. The others went to look for him."

Not everyone. Plenty had stayed on the submarine to carry out their tasks or to chill. It was only those who had joined in the game of 'hide and seek' who left. Emil knew that but didn't feel like pointing that out. "Yes, I know." With a soft smile, she cupped both his cheeks, making him look at her. "Lew mentioned he thought it was a fisherman. It's not." She chuckled and shook her head. "I _am_ having a date though." Even if Law changed his mind and didn't come, Emil could always go out to the town later and hook up with someone.

"Bepo." Emil squeezed his cheeks.

"Y-yes?"

"I'm sorry." She smooched his nose. "I shouldn't have told you off. They pressured you into this act. _They_ might be on the cookie-light diet but you're fine. I meant you would be _rewarded_ for helping me out next time we play but there will be no repercussions if they drag you to their side." She smooched his nose again. "Bye~ I have a date to get ready for."

Back on Caramel, she went to the storage room and pulled out one of two boxes with her dresses and a pair of high heels. She disliked high heels - her feet got sore quickly in them. 'Looking sexier' was not a reason good enough for Emil to suffer though sore feet. A chance to see Law in a suit and a tie? Well, Emil was willing to toy with this idea at least once.

Did Law even _own_ a suit and a tie?

Emil laid four dresses on the bed. Two had something akin to a corset that ended under the bust. The one that reached below the knees had thick straps, while one that ended mid-tight had short, flowy sleeves. Two were strapless and ended just above the knee. One was was tight only around the bust and then flared out in thick underlayer and thin and sheer overlayer while the other one was form-fitting from the bust to below the hips, flaring out plates only around thighs. Emil believed each of them was some combination of black and yellow but she's never bothered to remember which parts were which colour.

She went on to take a shower. They've never agreed the hour. Not that Emil would know what time it was anyway. She'd just told Law to come over when he felt like that. For all Emil knew, it could be in fifteen minutes, or in five hours. She had plenty of things to occupy herself with before he graciously arrives to carry out _his_ idea.

* * *

**Lena**

And just what was wrong with _him_ that day? A small consolation that he wasn’t the only one acting unusually. Don’t think he hadn’t noticed the way Emil softened at his touch- an observation he filed away for further reflection; an observation that urged him to try it again more often.

He perked up and was all ears when Emil suggested going all in for their date: fancy restaurant, formal dress code. Her mention of dresses, _plural_ , stashed onboard the Caramel prompted him to ask whatever was she doing hoarding all those dresses? _Oh,_ could she be secretly keeping them for an occasion like this? Before he could get the words out, she returned his gentleness of touch, brushing his hair, grazing his cheek, her fingers leaving an imprint of warmth on his face. Unlike Emil, he didn’t melt like putty, but tensed up a little and leaned slightly away, albeit seconds late. The crease in his brow relaxed and the confused look he had given her dissolved into a half-smile when she said any man who dated her could be called a fisherman.

Before Emil left, he concurred that they should scatter breadcrumbs for the crew to be on their trail and said he’d take care of that.

She left him standing in his room in stupefaction, staring at the closed door.

_What had he done?_

Dear God.

Had he just invited Emil on a _date_? _Emil?_

In a sense, it was a _pretend_ date, to fool the crew, _wasn’t it?_

He had to backtrack a couple of steps. What if he did date Emil? What was wrong with that? Dates did not automatically or necessarily lead to holding hands or locking lips in front of the altar, with an old man in a cassock ready to pronounce them –

A match made in Hell. Two of the most miserable persons spending the rest of their lives dwelling in each other’s misery – and adding to it? A perfect match: a negative and a negative made a positive. May they live miserably ever after, otherwise.

_Dear Emilia, I promise you a life of greater misery beyond your wildest imagination. Even death would fear us, sickness would hardly be as sympathetic as to befall us and prematurely end our misery. Neither of us evidently know what we’re getting into, and neither of us can swallow this concept called love, and if you marry me, you’re getting over two dozen husbands – or children, but…I believe we can make it work. Now kiss me like you mean it, Satan – I mean, Dust Bunny._

A public date, no less, that he had asked for.

Law paced his room with his hands pushed into his pockets, his brows furrowed in deep thought. He propped his back against the door and sank down onto the floor, staring at Corazon Jr. being all statue-like with its eyes open and its mouth gaping, its face frozen in that manner.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Law mumbled. He drew his legs towards him and rested his elbows on his knees. Corazon Jr. offered no sage advice.

He could _not_ turn up. He didn’t even need an excuse.

No, seriously, if he thought about it, all those dinners he ate in the Caramel with Emil: weren’t those dates? He never specified it was a romantic date. A change of environment – dinner in a fancy restaurant – would be refreshing. Life: What was the point if not for these new experiences? While he had gone on a fancy date or two, those were merely on transactional bases, a means to an end, never the end itself.

Of course, who should he bump into once he had made up his mind and dug out his crumpled tuxedo, dusted it off and swept away the cobwebs, but a confused, albeit less distraught, Bepo, just steps away from the laundry room where Law was headed to do some ninja ironing. Bepo frowned at the black mass of fabric in Law’s arms. But first, a grin spread on Bepo’s face and he told Law Emil had reassured him things were all right. Also, her date wasn’t a fisherman! Law was wrong. Then Bepo pointed at the tuxedo. “What-“ Bepo’s mouth hung open and the remainder of his question was forgotten. Law narrowed his eyes, but it was too late. Bepo gasped.

“It’s you!” Bepo pointed a trembling finger at Law, his other hand clutching his face, then moving to clamp over his mouth, which was still agape, so wide a whole salmon could leap inside. “Oh my god, i-i-it is you! You’re the fisherman!”

Law pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Bepo’s naïve and ingenuous appearance sometimes belied his perceptiveness.

And that was how the two of them ended up in the laundry room, Bepo hunched over the ironing board with a solemn expression, gingerly and fastidiously ironing out every wrinkle. There was no arguing with Bepo over his participation in Law’s plan. Despite Emil’s apology, Bepo still wanted to make amends, and seized the opportunity to side with Emil this time.

Bepo held up the tuxedo, admiring his diligent effort, careful not to get his claws into the fabric. “All done!” He leaned in, sniffed, and crinkled his nose. “Smells a little like the clothes we buried great-grandpa in, but maybe some cologne will cover it up.”

It would be close to two hours before Law and Bepo arrived at the Caramel. Except, they weren’t alone. Trailing behind them was a group of dozen young women, dressed in patched and worn garments, whispering among themselves. Law left Bepo to wait with the ladies in the harbour, a short distance away, while he boarded the Caramel and went in search of Emil. He would have swaggered in, but he restrained himself. He strode in attired in the formal tuxedo that fit him snugly, with a black bowtie, his hair combed and slicked back under a fedora that sat tilted to one side. On his feet, shiny Oxfords. He had kept his gold-hooped earrings and slight stubble to complement his goatee.

He had also donned his ever so stylish pair of sunglasses.

“Your fisherman has arrived,” he said coolly, leaning an arm against the door jamb. With affected grace, he removed his shades. He dipped his chin slightly, turned his head at a small angle, so that his profile faced her, and the brim of the fedora shadowed his eyes. “I’ve reserved an entire restaurant for our dinner,” he said. “I hope you like Italian. It’s a fancy restaurant, as per your suggestion. The owner owes me a favour now, which he is delighted to repay.” He slipped his shades into his jacket pocket, pushed off the door jamb, and removed his hat. He sauntered deeper into the Caramel, and found the dresses laid out on Emil’s bed.

“You haven’t decided?” Law frowned, examining the dresses. He picked out two of the four: the knee-length dress with what looked like a corset, and the cocktail dress with a lace overlay. “Oh, by the way, about Bepo and his fan club out there, the women crowding around him… They need your help.” He paused, gave her a moment to digest his words before he explained, “See, I expect some of the crew will be joining us later. The women are for them – otherwise, I guarantee the evening will be the furthest from peaceful, for everyone involved.” His tone was dry. “Don’t worry, they’ve all given their explicit consent to dating the crew. We – Bepo and I – told them we’re sailors, and they signed up for the evening after we promised them a free dinner in a fancy restaurant. So…” He arranged the two dresses he’d selected separately on the bed, for Emil to pick the one she liked better. “Here’s the plan. The ladies don’t own nice dresses. Perhaps you could help? And if you don’t have enough, we could pay for the dresses if you have to buy them. Your taste ought to be better than Bepo’s or mine.” He smoothed his fingers over his hair and replaced the fedora on his head.

“We’d still have our date, of course – though first, we must witness the crew’s expressions, before the women are to show themselves. After we find them dresses, Bepo, the women, and I will go ahead to the restaurant, while you prance around town on your way to meet your fisherman, luring the crew to the restaurant for the surprise. Once there, you’ll go inside, and the waitress will show you to a table.” He moved around the room and sat down on one side of the bed. “And if you want, we could always slip away later,” he said. “Any questions or suggestions for improvement?”

* * *

**Lizard**

Law was so lame!

Emil couldn't help but chuckle at a wig in front of her. His suit and hat and those _glasses_. The way he moved as if there were dozens of people staring at him and he relished each second of it. He was _so_ lame... And she loved that.

"Law! Just how many dresses do you think I have?!" She called at him from the bathroom and shook her head. She had two boxes, four dresses in each, "Besides, next time you decide to pick women to wear _my_ dresses, maybe pick ones who would actually _fit_ in them? You've handled my boobs! You should have realised the majority of them is _bigger_ than I am." She shook her head and picked up the wig to put it on. "What time is it anyway? Do we even have time to find dresses for so many people?" Emil carried on as she bobby-pinned the wig to her hair. "Have you even thought this though or were you acting on a whim? Ha! One could think we swapped personalities and you rush in with weird ideas! While I'm the one to find holes in it!" Emil adjusted her fringe and turned to the door.

"I haven't decided Law, because I told you I might let you pick." Dressed in her fluffy bathrobe and black - she believed - stockings, she walked up to him. She swept the wavy locks of her waist-length wig back, behind her shoulder, before holding Law's lapels. "Look at you," with a smile of a proud parent, she held him at the arm's length. "I thought you wouldn't have a suit..." She frowned and slid her fingers down his lapels. "Well, it seems you might still have none... This one feels more like a tuxedo." She trailed her fingers back up and touched his bowtie. "This is even better though." With one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chin, she pressed a kiss against his cheek. Heh, it had been so nice of him to sit down - even if he didn't realise it at the time; with him down, she could reach his cheek. "You look dashing tonight, Law..." She lifted her eyes to his forehead. "Though, drop the hat; I prefer your fluffy one over this thing." Emil took it off and placed atop her own head. "Stay seated and don't turn around - I'm gonna get dressed."

Would she care if he looked? No. Emil simply wanted to see whether or not he would oblige. In all honesty, she expected him to _not_ oblige.

Walking around the bed, she untied her bathrobe and let it slip off just as she passed the bed foot. Underneath, she wore a lingerie set with a garter belt. All in was all in, after all. Should any of Law's nosy kids catch even a glimpse of those, they would have the wildest ideas going through their heads.

"Actually, it might be good you invited those women over." Emil picked up the dress with the corset-like wrap and unzipped the back. "Do you think any of them might be good at applying makeup? Maybe one of them might do mine while we get them dressed up. I usually don't wear makeup but hey - you wore a tuxedo, I'll wear high heels, we might just as well go in with makeup too." She snorted, balancing on one leg as she stepped into the dress. "What even gave you the idea I might have a good taste in dresses? I'm blind! I bet each of those women would pick a better dress for herself than if I were to pick blindly." Emil pulled the straps onto her shoulders and reached back... paused.

She cocked her head... Had Law really... Obey? It would have been so easy to turn around to look her way. She wouldn't even get angry, yet... There he was, with his back to her, his face away.

"Hey, Law." She stepped around the bed, back to him. "Today..." She breathed in and hummed, squinting a bit in thought. How should she say that? She reached out and twirled her fingers around his hair on the temple. "Today's been weird. Unusual." She let go of his hair and directed her eyes at his. "A nice kind of unusual though. Thank you... I quite enjoy working _with_ you, not against you." She chuckled, deciding to indulge him one more time. "Captain."

"Now." She twirled away and swept her hair over the shoulder, to the front. "Wanna do the honours and zip up my dress?"

* * *


End file.
